Smile
by Meepa
Summary: Every day for the past five years, he’s smiled at me.  I don’t know who he is, or even his name, but I always smile back.  Soft YamixYuugi.


Hope this makes up for my lack of Puzzleshipping for those of you who want me to write more.I haven't written purely that in forever and a day. Even though it's incredibly short. And scattered. D:

**Summary**: Every day for the past five years, he's smiled at me. I don't know who he is, or even his name, but I always smile back. Soft Y/Y.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!.

**.: Smile :.**

The cool morning breeze flutters past my face, chilling me but in an undeniably comfortable way. One that almost reeked of nostalgia, despite how common a thing such a simple feeling was. I almost want to close my eyes and cherish the sensation, but, as always, that's not a very smart decision right now. Having been on a slope, I had no need to peddle but now that I was nearing the bottom of the hill, I had to, else I wouldn't get much of anywhere. Lifting my rear off of the seat and starting to pump my legs, my eyes flick over to the side, though I continued to face forward.

Up ahead is a single bus stop, one that I have passed nearly every day ever since I moved to Domino City five years ago. I used to have to walk, but then I ended up buying myself a bicycle – it's much easier to get around, and faster than public transportation would be. Too much traffic for my taste, but how can I complain? We chose to move here, knowing it was a lot busier than Asaka.

But because I chose this means of getting to school, I couldn't take a briefcase as most people did. I don't have a basket to carry it in, after all. I have to carry everything in a backpack, and though it is a lot easier to lug around that something I have to hold by hand, I noticed immediately that not a whole lot of people had one. And, having only just moved here, I felt... out of place. Of course, my hair was certainly an oddity of its own. Since then, of course, it had grown out and I now wore it tied back, mainly so it wouldn't whip into my eyes on my way to school.

On my first day, as I passed this very bus stop, I noticed a boy. Yes, there were many people who frequented these places every hour of the day, but this one boy caught my attention. He was noticeably shorter than those around him, and that was what grabbed my attention second. His hair was the first. It looked remarkably like my own, but wasn't there a saying about that? You have a lookalike somewhere at some point in time. I just happened to meet mine during my lifetime. But the height made me wonder; just how old was he? I pondered over that for weeks until I grasped that he was wearing a middle school uniform. Were we the same age? Could it be? Even if we weren't, he couldn't have been more than a few years younger. Stunted growth, perhaps. Or maybe he just hadn't quite gotten the sudden spurt that most people got while going into or through puberty?

I also came to notice something else. His eyes were something I don't get to see clearly very often at all, but when I do it's a wonderful treat. They're a beautiful color – a deep amethyst-violet one. Such a rare shade indeed! I'd only seen one other person with it before, but she was a terribly cranky old woman who shouted at me or staring. His face is also the perfect shape for them, since they look so wide and childish. In a fleeting thought once, I wondered if he was the embodiment of innocence.

As the seasons passed, I had noticed that he, at the same time I had, changed uniforms completely. It was then I realized that we were both in the same grade. Different schools, but definitely the same grade.

He also wore a backpack, just like me.

Even though I had absolutely no idea who he was, or even so much as his name, I felt an odd connection with him. And one thing that he had done ion the first day I saw him struck me, and has stayed with me ever since. He smiled at me.

But that wasn't the only time.

Every single day since then, every day I ride past his stop while he's waiting for the bus, he always smiles at me. It's amazing how he's never once missed a day due to illness, but then, there are some days I see that he doesn't look completely well. And yet, there he sits. I've wondered if it's just because he's an extremely devoted student, or if it's something else. Several times, very unrealistically I know, I've inquired (to myself, of course) if it's because of _me_ that he's there. Just to give me a smile. But that's so silly, isn't it? I'm not that important. Such a selfish thing to even consider, too.

As I near the spot, half lost in my memories, I see his form, sitting on the metal bench as it always is. No many people are there right now, and he always seems to be there early. We're both seniors now, and I wonder, sadly, if I'll still see him after school ends. I want to talk to him, at least say "Hello," but I never have. As to why, well, that's something. I almost don't want to speak to him, as if the words would break the silent connection we share. Even if it's only one-sided. But doesn't he feel it, too? The warmth and utterly simplistic form of comfort and satisfaction? Or am I the only one...? That plagues my mind daily. And yet, as I slow my pace slightly, glancing over towards him, our eyes meet and his lips curve upwards, his hard-to-make-out eyes sparkling gorgeously at me. And I feel my own face mirror his.

And then I've passed, too far ahead to look back without crashing. But that was enough. My worries have gone, and my spirits lifted miraculously. Strangely, I know he feels it, too.

Someday, maybe, I'll work up the courage to speak to him. But for now, I'll just smile.

**.: The end :.**


End file.
